


Cacti

by shurb



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Asexual Relationship, Autism, Depression, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Hallucinations, M/M, Major Character Injury, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Self-Isolation, Sick Character, Sleep Deprivation, Smoking, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, self-starvation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:21:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28883088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shurb/pseuds/shurb
Summary: Gavin is left to recover from injuries he had brought onto himself, from damage he had done to his own body.Due to his mental state, he also isn't allowed into work for the foreseeable future. No paid leave, either.He knew for his entire life that his bad choices would come back to bite him in the ass, but he hadn't expected it to be so early, nor had he expected it to leave him so indifferent as it does.He doesn't want to get better, and he knows that much.And still Richard tries. Why does he try?
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	1. Atrispinus

It was such a calm night. The 7th of October 2040.  
His friends - and that meaning friend as in.. singular - had wanted to come over and spend that _wonderful_ day with him. But even as she had looked up at him so expectantly at the precinct, asking when she should come over that evening, he couldn't bring himself to invite her. Or anyone, for that matter. Gavin didn't do friendships.  
He didn't do much at all, really. Except for work and smoke. He had a partner called Nines, whom he got along with fine. It wasn't anything special. Nor was it a real.. friendship with Tina, either. Not that they didn't get along - they did. But Gavin was a person that wasn't so practiced in all this "human interaction" and "socialising" business.  
Most of the time he finds himself wishing to be in his own head and with his own thoughts whenever he was talking to her or others. His thoughts were simply more interesting and easiest to follow. Unfortunately others didn't think the same. He could quickly make connections between certain pieces of information, and get ahead of them, and then they wouldn't feel listened to at all, because he would impulsively interrupt them and ask questions ahead of what they had been saying. Even if it was the exact opposite most of the time.

Social interaction was even after 38 years of living here on earth still a very complicated topic to grasp. And so was finding a reason to live.  
He had a home, he had food and water. He had plenty of plants he could take care of. And still there wasn't really anything... _there_ to motivate him to go on with life.

Which was how he found himself standing in the kitchen of his own apartment at 11 PM with a knife in his hand.

Gavin had not slept that night, or the one before. Cases, or simply his mind-numbing video games, had been more interesting than getting any rest. Because when he laid down, most nights, he couldn't sleep. Thoughts kept him awake. Like claws they would scratch away at his brain, his sanity. Until all that was left were his rawest thoughts that he did his best to keep buried.

He didn't want to do this, and yet nothing in his mind was stopping him from holding the sharp knife in a tight grip. It was dark in the room, but he could imagine how white the knuckles on his hand were, could feel how much the appendage was shaking. He was sweating.  
He wanted to place the knife away, but he couldn't. What was keeping him from ending it? It certainly wasn't some life goal of his. Sure, he enjoyed his work, but it wasn't really... work was just something one _had_ to do. It was coincidence he was good at it.

All in life was a mere coincidence, a random meeting of two or more events, that sometimes clashed, and at other times just passed each other.

Gavin turned the blade of the knife towards his torso, both hands now gripping the handle.

The knife shook harder, and he was afraid he was going to drop it.  
He was afraid of so many things. Spiders, height, the occasional loud noise around him. He was afraid of the dark, and scared of deep waters where one couldn't see the bottom of the lake, or river or whatever it was.

He was afraid of death, and at the same time longed for it. That was the difference of this fear compared to the others.

He was afraid of his own thoughts, because they hindered him in reaching his last, and ultimate goal.

"C'mon... just-!" he tried to convince himself that he didn't need to be afraid, that all it took was to pull the knife towards him in one motion, and to **not stop**.  
He needed a smoke. One last smoke before he would do it. Just one.

Gavin brought the knife with him to his bedroom, fished out the pack of his self-rolled cigarettes (they were mich stronger than the other shit) and his lighter from his discarded jacket on the floor and made himself comfortable on his bed. He turned the TV on as well, which hung across him on the wall, and let it play some action movie that he didn't know. It didn't matter what played, his mind was somewhere else.

He lit the cigarette dangling from his numb lips. All had felt so numb recently. When before all sensations and noises around him were too much, he now lacked the ability to be aware of any of them.  
He breathed in deeply and greedily, imagining how the smoke destroyed his esophagus, infected his lungs and let them turn from grey, to greyer, to black. Until they would shrivel away and leave him to die, leaving him no choice on the matter anymore.

There were two windows in his bedroom, in the wall opposite to the one where he bed stood against. He didn't like the thought of having the sun shine brightly into his face in the morning, nor did he like to be seen sleeping by any creeps looking in through his window where the fire escape was placed. He wasn't too high up, but certainly high up enough to...  
Gavin pushed himself off the mattress and walked over to the window where the fire escape wasn't. He pushed the handle up and opened it.  
Looking down alone made him want to step away. It was still a long way down, even if he could be living higher. He didn't know the statistics of people surviving a jump from such a height, but there was only one way to find out, and just a few seconds to know if things went according to plan.

He breathed in deeply again, the smoke filling his lungs. It would be so much less nerve-wracking if the cigarettes would finally do their job and off him. But no, he had to make do with what was in his vicinity, and not in the foreseeable future, because he couldn't wait anymore. He always had been so impatient.

A car drove by in the street. It looked a little familiar. But he was being stupid again. Only because one of his coworkers owned a model like this didn't mean it was theirs. Stupid, stupid, **stupid**! He was losing focus again.

Gavin stepped on the small windowsill, hands gripping the frames of the window tightly.  
The ashes of the cigarette still clinging onto the stick blown away by the gust of wind. It was cold. Gavin was freezing. Though, not from the cold, or even his nervousness of what he was about to do.

He was simply scared of the great height underneath him, separating him from the hard concrete below.

Gavin stepped out of the security of his little home, and into the world that he had come to understand he would never comprehend.  
All this happiness, and the friendships, and the goals and the sexual intercourse. It was all nothing he could understand. He supposed jumping would bring the world closer to perfection, when a broken cogwheel would finally get thrown away and be replaced by another.  
Gavin felt his heart stop when he nearly fell forward on accident, and he dropped the cigarette from his mouth, watching the faint orange light disappear below.

Just one more step, a small push, and he would fly just like that cigarette.

Gavin willed his heart to calm down, took deep breaths and closed his eyes. He didn't need to see what awaited him, he already knew. The last mental images he wanted to have was of... there was nothing particularly gleeful that he wanted to think about, actually. It all was a mass of grey, a static filling his head like a broken TV.

_Just one more step._

Gavin let go of the window frame, forced his muscles to relax.

The feeling of no gravity was there for a moment, filling his stomach as if he was on a roller coaster. He wanted to curl up, wanted to open eyes, but even his brain finally had caught up with the fact that there was nothing he could do anymore.  
The impact was short-lived. A moment he had been working for to finally experience, and it was over so quick.  
A mere sensation of his entire body feeling heavy like a thousand pound of bricks pressed down on him, and the sound of something cracking.

It was what he had wanted his entire life, and now he finally had granted himself that wish.

* * *

Gavin wasn't sure what was going on. It was hard to move, hard to breathe. Was it cold in hell? He always thought of it to be more.. warm.

But he wasn't stupid. He wasn't going to play himself for a fool. He knew that he had somehow survived, otherwise he wouldn't feel his heart beating the way it did, pounding in his head like a hammer striking an anvil. He wouldn't be able to smell the things he did, the scents he hated and was still familiar with. Lord knew he disinfected his hands near regularly. And what other place smelled like someone drenched the rooms in the stuff? A hospital.

Gavin wouldn't mind waking up to find himself standing next to himself as a ghost, aware of his surroundings, and damned to wander the earth until he found some sort of salvation.  
But with how he felt, he felt too alive.

_He always felt too alive in the worst of times._

Opening his eyes turned out to be more difficult of a task than expected. Maybe if he went back to sleep, he would succumb to some coma and the people around him, those who "cared" for him, would be kind enough to pull the plugs.

The forced movements that the machine attached to his face did was getting annoying. He had jumped off a great height to stop breathing, not to be forced to continue doing so. But still, he couldn't hold his breath, nor could he pull the mask away from his face, even if he wished to do so.

He supposed waking up enough to pull it away on his own was his chance though.  
The man tried to open his eyes, to will himself awake with the help of the constant beeping next to him. It did aid greatly, really. He couldn't sleep with all the noise around him...  
Gavin's heart nearly stopped when he realised just how loud it was in his room. It sounded like there were at least 20 people in the room, talking loudly, and about him, too!

"Do you think he'll wake up?"  
"What happened?"  
"Would you like your coffee decaffeinated?"  
"Why would he do this?"  
"I got this new top from-"

Gavin used the rush of anxiety that came with the knowledge of being around so many other people to open his eyes.  
It didn't help much though. It was all too blurry. Like when he always awoke from a bad sleep and his eyelids were still crusted over with some weird crumbs. He didn't know what the hell the name of that was, but he didn't care too much.  
Blinking didn't do much either. All was still blurry, but of what he could see, it didn't look like there was anyone talking near him. There didn't seem to be anyone at all. There were the faded shapes of his bed before him, the white wall across him, and a window where the sunlight shone through to his left. Something brown was in the farther distance to his right, and he strained his eyes to hopefully make out what it was. Looked like a door.

The sound of talking stopped, and it left him only with the beeping and his own breathe.  
His chest hurt with every inhale, with the pain lessening whenever he breathed out, only to disrupt the moment of bliss with yet another inhale.  
Pain wasn't something he couldn't handle. He had a high tolerance, if he said so himself. But right now it was just too much to handle.

He had finally tried to end it, and here he was. Not dead.

Gavin tried to move his right arm to pull the offending object off of his face, but once more pain shot through his body, disrupting his plans. The beeping picked up its pace.  
He tried to relax his arm, but it wasn't just the limb hurting. The intense stinging wasn't only located on his shoulder, or his arm, but traveling along his spine, too, rendering his body tense and unable to find any rest.  
"Phck'n... neurons," he groaned out between gasps.

Since he already established that his arm must have been fucking broken, he lifted his head just the slightest bit to see how his other arm and his legs were doing; a thick cast around his right arm and another on his right leg.  
What a way to go it would have been. Would he have laid in his own casket just as crippled as he would have been found? His body bent in all the wrong ways, while his face remained a serene expression only death could bring - and the help of the people working at the morgue who would prepare his body.

Not that anyone would actually come to his funeral to say their final goodbyes. And he wouldn't want that anyway.

Fucking mask, it was annoying him to no end! He was feeling nauseous over here! He was going to puke into the fucking mask real soon!  
Maybe he would choke on his own puke. That would be fine by him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the door to his room suddenly opening. Not a nurse came in, but-

" _Nines_?" he croaked out. Wow, he must have smoked at least 50 cigarettes while unconscious. As he liked to think: One cigarette a day is not enough. Smoke more. Smoke it all.  
Alright, he never thought that. He simply smoked and that was it.  
He could barely make out the shape of the person there, but since they were tall, wore some black turtleneck and had a blue spinny-thing, which quickly turned into a yellow blot, he guessed it was his partner. It wasn't the first time he had seen him, nor the second. Or the third.. Fuck, his thoughts were riding a carousel.

"Gavin, I'm so glad you're awake. I was worried you had slipped into a coma, due to the degrees of your various injuries." The android walked over calmly. His voice sounded a little muffled, but otherwise he could hear him. And he could hear the concern in his voice.

Must have been his imagination.

" _Good morning...to you, ...too_ ," he retorted the polite greeting. Gavin couldn't take the forced breaths anymore. Why not give his lungs a break?  
He clumsily flung his left arm, the one that at least felt okay to move, towards his face, grabbed the mask and pulled it off.  
The man immediately felt how much more difficult it was to breathe. If it wasn't for his brain's stupid instincts, he would be happy to find himself unable to draw in a proper breath. But he felt the fear of choking clamp around his body with a vice grip.

Hands quickly took the mask from him while he continued to struggle for raspy inhales, and placed the mask back on his lower face.  
Gavin could barely do anything about it. With how difficult it was to just stay awake. Even moving his head to look at the person next to him oh-so-greatly "helping" him couldn't be done.

The rhythmic pains in his chest returned, creaking his ribs with every inhale forced upon him.  
He could nearly see his skin and the muscles underneath dissolving to expose his ribcage, which in turn opened up like a passage way for his heart to beat out of. His imagination sure was strong today. Despite all he was seeing being foggy, he could see all this happening before his eyes.

The colours of red, white and fleshy pink disappeared again when Nines called out for him.  
"Gavin," he had probably repeated his name a few times by now, while he had gotten lost in thought again. Why was he even bothering to talk to him? There never came anything out of conversations with him. "Why have you done this?"  
What was he talking about? He had done many things in his life that were despicable. Was he referencing something he was supposed to have paid attention to?  
When he didn't answer, his partner spoke up again: "Why did you try to kill yourself?"

What a thing to ask someone. Wasn't it obvious?  
" _Wanted to... fly like a... bird_ ," he answered, as sassily as he could manage.  
He closed his eyes. Being awake was such a bother. It all was.

Gavin didn't hear Nines anymore. Was he saying something, and he simply ignored it?

When he opened his eyes again, Nines was gone. And so was the sunlight. He couldn't see anything at all now that everything was veiled in shadows. But the beeping of the machine was still there somewhere, registering only as background noise to his half-awake mind.  
His own breath was too loud in his own head.

 **He hated it!** **  
****Why was it even there?  
** **What use was it that he could feel his own heartbeat?!**

Gavin wanted to leave this place. There were steps of multiple people coming towards his room, and he didn't want to see anyone at the moment. Or ever again.

But no matter how long he waited, wide eyes fixated on the door, no one entered. The sounds were still there, but they didn't seem to go farther away, nor were they coming closer.  
To say the least, he didn't feel comfortable.

Even if his eyes were still barely working, and his head was still killing him, he did feel a little more awake. Maybe he was actually able to get up and leave? Go to the window and jump out from there?  
Who even had brought him to the hospital? Surely it couldn't have been his neighbours; they minded their own business, and that was fine with him. Of course they would try to help him though, because of some moral obligation. The world was full of them: Speak when spoken to, don't just up and end a conversation because it was boring or you didn't have anything to say. Tell people you are sorry for their loss of a family member, even if you didn't know them and the words didn't do anything in the end.

Gavin tried to lift his head, but that was still a labour he couldn't fulfil. He was trapped here in the bed, alone, with this these people stomping outside of his room.  
He felt around for a remote - surely the nurses have thought about giving him an emergency button to call them. So he pressed the button. Soon enough more footsteps sounded along with the others. The door to his room opened and a nurse stepped in.  
"Good evening, Mister Reed."  
" _There... people.... outside_ ," he managed to say, " _tell them... to stop.. stomping_."  
The nurse just looked at him, then smiled and nodded. "Of course."  
She walked back outside, closing the door behind herself.

* * *

The next time he awoke, he definitely was more awake. Fully even, he would say. At least compared to the last times.  
And Nines was once again sitting next to him, apparently. He hadn't seen him yet, with his vision still being ass, and he wondered if he somehow had fucked up his head enough with the fall that he would now need glasses. He wouldn't mind. He wouldn't be alive long enough to get angry at himself for having half-blinded himself.  
But he knew that it was Nines, because the android just had to start speaking to him again the moment he regained consciousness.

"Gavin, how are you feeling?" he asked, most likely genuine concern in his voice.  
But Gavin didn't care if it was genuine or not. He didn't want to talk with him. Small talk had never been his strength, and he wouldn't start building skills now.  
"Gavin, please, talk to me. What's going on? One evening you leave work like any other, and on the same day, I arrive at your apartment to find you have _jumped_ out of your window. You didn't even show any signs of- I thought I-," Nines tried to explain himself, probably trying to find some excuses as to how he should have known; but for what? Gavin hadn't planned to have any interruptions during his attempt to take his own life. He hadn't wanted anyone to find him.  
"Gavin," he tried again to get his attention, but he remained mute.  
Nines had been the one to ruin everything, ruin it all. To leave him in the condition he was in now. Why had he even showed up at his home? Gavin wasn't going to ask, because what good would the answer do?

A knock on the door and entrance of hospital personnel at least interrupted this uncomfortable conversation. The person who had entered was carrying something that was clinking. Probably food. And judging by the smell it was something like a warm lunch.  
"Good day, Mister Reed," the man said, "you woke up just in time for lunch."  
Great. He didn't want it.

The mask was removed first, to see if his body could do the bare minimum on its own. And it could, unfortunately.  
Next Nines helped him to sit up. Gripped him by his underarms as if he had asked for it. As if he had allowed him to touch him. And sat him up straighter on the bed, with the pillow behind him for softened support.

The tray was placed over his legs, close enough for him to reach whatever was on his plate, while still giving his casted arm enough space.

"Thank you," his partner said in his place - as if he was fucking grateful to be fed trash -, and the man left again.

He felt Nines' gaze on him, but he didn't look back. He could barely make out anything anyways. Let alone he didn't want the other to think he appreaciated his presence here.  
He wanted Nines to leave.

Either a spoon or a fork had been handed to him, he couldn't tell. He wasn't going to inspect it further. He still hurt all over - and that was the only relief he had.  
"Gavin, you should eat something."

_"Gavin, you should do this!"  
_ _"Gavin, do that!"_

He placed the cutlery back down on the tray. He wasn't hungry. He didn't want to eat. All he needed was a smoke and his own bed. A knife, too. Maybe his gun, actually, just to make sure.

He felt the cold object weighing in his laid out palm again.  
What was Nines doing here anyway? They barely knew each other after months and months of working together. Maybe it had been a year. Or more. Gavin couldn't keep up with the time anymore.  
"Please, eat something. You need to regain your strength."  
Gavin dropped the piece of metal on the floor beside his bed.

He heard someone sigh. It was barely heard with the bandages around his head. It all sounded so far away.

"Gavin, tell me what's going on!" he said it with more force this time, but Gavin remained quiet and still.

"Please."

Gavin's gaze didn't wander away from the plate before him.


	2. Durispinus

Gavin always connected to people easier who were talking with him on an intellectual level. He didn't know what it was, but once someone showed how smart they could be, and making him learn new things, he found it nearly _attractive_. In a way that wasn't going over the infatuation, but just was there as a comforting presence whenever he was around those types of people.

He used to think that way with Nines, but now that his partner was acting so foolishly, couldn't he just withdraw these feelings and invest them to feed his own self-hate?  
Why was Nines here? Why had he forced him to stay here, too? He was sure another Gavin Reed was running around out there somewhere. He should just go and find, and bother, that one.

But posing that offer would declare him insane, mentally sick, and he might never get out of here.  
Was it too much to ask to just be left alone, or left to die? After all, it was his decision, and he wasn't some teen anymore with the wish to take their life. He was a 38 year old man with the wish to take his life. In his opinion, he was old enough for the ride.

"Good morning, Gavin," he was greeted just like yesterday, and the day before. And the one before that. The fourth day of slowly getting "better". The fourth day of Nines visiting him here in the hospital, most likely despite his own busy work schedule. After all, he was currently carrying both their work at the DPD.

"How are you feeling today?" Nines hadn't given up yet, trying to get him to talk with him. But why, when he was the reason he was still here. He would have died. With the pain he was in now, he would have died on that street days ago. But Nines had come along for some reason he didn't know of yet, and had interrupted him at the wrong time.  
Gavin would say he was angry at himself for having gotten caught, and for still being alive. But it was hard to be mad, when you didn't feel anything at all.  
Whatever drugs he was on both numbed his body, and also his emotions _(it was the drugs, right?)_. Moving his arms or legs had never been so difficult before. Did they know how he had gotten himself into this situation? Did they want to keep him bed? Were they going to send him somewhere? He hoped not. He would never get out of a ward again or some insane asylum. He wasn't sick, he was just unlucky. And aware of that fact.

Nines sat down next to him on a chair to his left. On the side with his good arm. Gavin wondered how it would feel to punch him. It would probably hurt, but maybe it would take his own hurt away.

"Gavin, please, talk! Just- just say _something_ ," the android started to demand. Would he be too suspicious if he "fell asleep" now? Just close his eyes and pretend.  
Gavin hadn't talked to him after he had first tried to make him eat lunch days ago. He listened, but like a viewer and not a participant of an active conversation. What he was saying wasn't interesting anyway. Let him tire himself out and leave.  
"I have informed Fowler of what had happened."

Now that got Gavin's attention. His vision had gotten a little better since these past days, and thus he was able to look up at Nines' eyes, to see if he was joking.  
He looked dead serious.

Gavin wanted to ask what the captain had said about it, what would happen now. He was sure that it wasn't going to be good news - but they never were whenever the news involved him directly.  
"Would you like to know what he said?" Nines offered to answer the question. But Gavin saw what that guy was trying to do. Tried to coax words out of him like he was some trained dog.

He kept quiet. Let Nines keep his stupid information for all he cared.  
The man turned his head away again to look at the wall ahead of him.

There were black spots on the wall. And they were... moving. They weren't just black spots; they were **spiders**!

Gavin felt this great irrational fear creep up within him again.  
He hated spiders with all his heart. And he didn't even know why.  
But the way their chunky bodies and long, lanky legs just moved so quickly along near every surface. The small hairs on them, and the eyes. Watching him, waiting to creep up his legs and arms to kill him!

"Spiders," he whispered, wide eyes focused on the end of his bed now. They were coming towards him. They were going to eat him alive!  
Gavin may have craved the end, but not like this!  
He ripped out the IV from his wrist before Nines could stop him - and only lord knows how that didn't hurt with him utilising his broken arm -, and jumped off the bed.  
He thought he was going to fall to the floor, which would have hurt really much, but strong arms caught him and held him upright.  
"Gavin, what is it?" Nines didn't seem to know what was distressing the other. Was he not scared of spiders? Lucky.

"Spiders! They're- they're everywhere!" he huffed out, turning around to face his bed. It was full of spiders! The bed was a mere mass of spindly legs and millions of red eyes just staring at him!  
Standing hurt, even his healthy leg. He was shaking, freezing without the blanket that had on him before.  
"Nines, get them away from me!" he yelled, jumping up into the android's arms to escape his cruel fate. He was caught, and held tightly, but he was sure these little bastards were currently just climbing up Nines' pants to get at him.  
"You should lay down, Gavin. You're extremely pale." Nines was already stepping closer to the mattress, but Gavin clung to him for dear life.

" **No! Please, don't!** " he screamed, fingers gripping the material of Nines' white coat. He wasn't going to let go.  
He was hyperventilating, surely he was. How couldn't he with so many arachnids chasing him, while he suffered from arachnophobia? He always knew why he hated these things. Ugly, hairy bastards. Crawling into him and laying their eggs!

"Gavin, you need to calm down," Nines instructed. As if he wasn't trying to keep his cool. As if he wanted to show that he was so scared of spiders. "I'll get a nurse."  
Gavin tried to cling to him all the more as he was lowered towards the insects again. Their little legs were reaching out towards him. "No, no! Nines, please don't! Don't let go!"  
But he didn't listen. He was placed down, and held there with Nines' hand on his chest.

They were everywhere! The itching and scratching of their little legs all over his skin, movement in his hair. They crawled into his mouth when he opted to scream for help, and he choked. He could barely draw in a proper breath. Was scared to do so, in case there would be more of these beasts going to wander in.  
Someone entered the room, someone he thought he had seen before. Maybe they would help him, get rid of these things, while Nines was just standing there and fucking gawking. Leaving him to endure one of his worst nightmares.

"Sir, please, try to relax your arm for me. You're going to be okay," the voice called out through the haze that had built within his brain. The haze that numbed his fear at least a little. He was still thrashing around as well as he could, trying to free himself from the alive prison, but he suddenly felt so tired.  
"Good, just like that, Mister Reed. You're going _to be alri_..." Her voice got more and more silent after that.

* * *

Why did he have to stay here so long? He had to go to work, at least manage to fulfil one task in life, before it would all be over.

"Good, just like that, Mister Reed." Ah, yes. He was still injured enough to require help to do physical therapy. Since he couldn't stand on his broken leg yet, the android nurse sometimes came over and helped him to bend his left leg, gave him instructions to use the healthy muscles he still had, after refusing any food for about a week. He didn't know if a week had passed, if more or less. Days and nights blended together here, since he slept whenever he felt like it.  
He let the man do what he wanted with his limbs, but he wasn't actively participating in any of the exercises. He was too tired, nor did he care much if he could move or not.

At least moving his intact limbs didn't hurt so much anymore, and he could easily use the remote to turn on the TV in his room, as well as hold the object without dropping it like before.

Once the nurse had bent his leg and arm to his heart's content, he asked if he wanted to eat something today. Because "surely he must feel hungry".  
The TV screen was more interesting.

The android left the room, only to come back with a tray in hands, and Nines in tow.  
Gavin closed his eyes.

The light footsteps came closer, clattering of cutlery moving against each other sounded. A creak of a chair, and the closing of a door.  
He was convinced his partner was still here.

"Captain Fowler thinks it would be best that you get better, mentally, before going back to work. You will be on forced, unpaid leave for the time being," Nines informed him.  
So that was what he had wanted to tell him? Gavin had expected worse. He could have been fired entirely. But this was also fine: No money to buy himself cigarettes, or keep a roof over his head. 

"Why were you there?" His voice was hoarse from disuse. He hated talking. Talking was so unnecessary when it came to him; he could speak as much as he wanted, and talk as loud as he could, and people would still find reasons to ignore whatever he said.  
A comment swatted away like an annoying fly, a compliment taken in the wrong way, wishes suppressed and thoughts unheard.  
"I wanted to congratulate you on your birthday. I felt bad after I forgot that day. It was just too busy at the precinct." Nines' words let the honesty filter through, and Gavin believed him; it indeed got pretty hectic some days. He usually forgot his own birthday as well, if Tina weren't to remind him on that day by giving him a card or just saying a cheery "Happy Birthday!" out loud so nearly the whole bullpen could hear.

"Just when I was about to ring the bell, a cigarette fell behind me, and I turned around and- and you just," Gavin interrupted him, let those around him feel what it was like to not be heard: "You should have left me there."  
Nines inhaled. It was a quiet sound, one that could nearly be missed, but Gavin had heard it all the same. It was mostly silent in his room, the TV almost always on mute.  
"Gavin, I wasn't going to just leave you there! You're my friend, and you need help! Which is why you're going to stay with me once you are discharged from the hospital."

Gavin had heard right, but he didn't want to believe it. Him? Staying with Nines? Bothering him in his own four private walls? His colleague claiming he was his... _friend_?  
He barely knew the android, and the other way around as well.  
"I-,"  
"No, whether you like it or not, you need some sort of supervision. You need someone to be there for you. Gavin, I don't know how you imagined your own death to turn out, but Tina, Connor and Fowler and **me** , we wouldn't have just," he paused, thinking of the right words maybe? "We wouldn't have just moved on like nothing happened. We _care_ about you. The whole precinct does!"

Gavin didn't want to listen to this bullshit. And even if it wasn't bullshit, why would some friendships or acquaintanceships change how he felt about his own life? It wasn't the fact that he barely knew those around him that made him jump. He simply didn't enjoy life. As he had read in an article before on the internet: Generally, people suffering from depression, or displaying a lack of will to live, had more difficult times in life than good ones. When one outweighed the other near constantly, then how could you feel joy in being here?  
He had mostly had bad experiences, and his brain always chose to forget the good ones. He couldn't just rewire his brain to only remember the happy-fun times. He couldn't force his brain to forget all the bad ones.

"Please, eat something."

Gavin remained quiet.

* * *

Gavin had been somewhat forced to eat the past days leading up to his discharge. He wasn't craving food any more or less than before, felt nauseated whenever anything settled in his stomach, but he wanted to leave. He hated it in this room, with these loud footsteps in the halls, the spiders in his room that no one bothered to take away. He had enough of not being able to move on his own, if only to roll over on the bed to not have to face Nines anymore, who had come to visit him everyday.

He had wanted to spend some days in peace, but each day another visit from Nines would disturb the silence in his head.  
Why was he still bothering each day, when he ignored him most of the time? When he made sure to let his partner feel unwelcome, even if he was merely turning up the volume of the TV until the guy stopped saying things.

"I'm sure you're going to like it here, Gavin. This area is rather calm, and less air-polluted - perfect for a speedy recovery!" Nines was pushing the wheelchair he was sitting in towards the door. Did he think he was stupid? That he didn't see that the street Nines lived in was the same as Connor's and Hank's?  
They would probably come over, too. And see him in this state. His leg still in a cast just like his arm. At least his ribs were okay... -ish.

He was wheeled inside, only to be met with a living room and a kitchen. Other rooms were to the left, where he couldn't see to right now in his position. Gavin had seen outside already that the house didn't have a garage, but seemingly a bedroom on the furthest left. Where was he going to sleep anyway?

"Would you like anything to drink or eat before I make dinner?" Nines looked down at him with this expression he couldn't place. Gavin felt uncomfortable.  
He had counted on never being a bother again, and now where was he?  
Gavin looked down at his hand. He needed a smoke. He hadn't had one in nearly two weeks.  
Nines already walked to the kitchen.

Could he smoke in here? Was there even an ashtray? He hated it here.  
The blank white walls with picture frames hung on them. Pictures of Nines and Tina. Of Connor and some dog.  
He hated the potted plants standing in corners and windowsills. How lively and well taken care of they looked.  
The cleanliness of everything.

He would only dirty the place.

Gavin took the tobacco, filters and papes from his jacket pocket, but soon realised how impossible that task of building himself a cigarette would be. With only one working arm.  
He hated it here.

"Here you go, some water," he held the glass out to him, and a little frown grew upon his face at the sight of the components splayed out on his lap.  
"Would you like to do something? Maybe watch some television? I have some books here you might enjoy."  
Gavin took the glass hesitantly. He could see the liquid nearly sloshing inside with how much his hand was shaking.

He didn't want to do anything, and certainly not drink water. He hated having to hydrate his body; he always forgot to do so. And for some reason he only drank tab water he filled into a bottle with a cap you could drink from more easily. He didn't know why he only remembered to drink when this sort of water bottle was around, but he did.  
Gavin wasn't hungry, wasn't thirsty. He was just craving a cigarette. Something to burn his throat and fill his lungs with coal blackness.

Once the cast was off, he was going to smoke one after another, greedily inhale all the smoke, watch the ember burning and turning the tobacco to ash, until he had to flick it off.

Nines took his silence and went with it, just picking him up as if he had allowed him to do so, and helped him to lay down on the couch. The cigarettes were taken from him, and placed back in his jacket with still hung over the back of the wheelchair, now parked neatly in an empty corner of the living room.

The TV was turned on for him, but Gavin found looking outside the window more interesting. He watched the white clouds pass over them. They looked so fluffy.  
Cars driving by outside could be heard, and the sounds of a knife hitting a wooden board, steady and rhythmic. Nines would have to leave for work eventually, and that meant he could use that knife in a proper way. He would dirty the floors, but he was sure one could easily wipe the stains away, as long as they found him quick enough - but not too quickly.

There were other sounds now. Getting louder gradually. Of little, tiny feet hitting the floorboards, wriggling around.  
Gavin hadn't realised he had closed his eyes, but he wished he had kept them closed.

His gaze was still directed at the window, so he could see all the cockroaches walking along the walls, the floors. He turned his head. Crawling over him.  
"Take them off," he whispered, wide eyes focused on the near indestructible insects walking over the cast on his leg, and sliding underneath it. He could feel their little feet on his skin, passing trough the hairs on his legs.  
"Hm? Take what off, Gavin?" Nines had walked over, and the expression on his face quickly turned concerned.  
Gavin could feel his heart beating out of his chest, especially when he felt the legs now creeping up his shirt. He slid his arm under the fabric and tried to brush the bugs away, but it wouldn't help. They always avoided his swings.  
" **Take them off! They're all over me!** " He screamed. Stinging in his ribs turned to burning when he sat up hastily, trying to take off his shirt. A truly impossible task.

"Gavin, calm down," Nines instructed oh-so helpfully. Calm down _how_ exactly?!  
" **Nines, they're all over me!** " He kicked out his leg in an attempt to shake them off. He had managed to get his arm stuck in the sleeve trying to force it off. He was panicking.  
"Gavin, look at me! Look at me, please."  
But he didn't listen. They were in his hair, on his face! He couldn't look away. They were going to eat him alive, they were going to-  
"Gavin," his head was taken into two warm hands, and carefully turned to the side so he would divert his eyes from the sight before him. "What are you seeing?"  
He tried to turn his head again, but the other held him there. "C... Cockroaches. Don't you see them?!" he gasped breathlessly.  
"Take a deep breath for me, in," he mimicked what was shown to him, "and out." He exhaled shakily.  
He tried to turn his head again, but it was still held tightly.  
"Once more now."  
Gavin did as instructed. The crawly feeling got a little less, and he managed to keep his leg and arm still.

Nines laid him back down, and let go of his head. He immediately looked down to see the roaches, but they were gone now.  
He didn't understand. Was he dreaming? Ah, thinking made his head hurt! The slow, light pounding was starting up.  
"Is that what you have seen days ago in the hospital?"  
Gavin looked at his partner, who was kneeling next to the couch now and looking at him expectingly. Or was he curious? Did he think he was crazy? Who cared if he did?  
"I.. remember seeing millions of spiders in the room. They were everywhere - even on the phckin' bed!"  
He was met with silence.  
"I saw what I saw, Nines! They were there!" He wasn't insane.  
"I believe you saw them. But it might help you to know that you have sustained great trauma to your head, and that next to the concussion you still have, you might also hallucinate sometimes."

Great, so he was all kooky now.

So before he was going to die, he would endure these horrors another time. 

The quiet between them was uncomfortable.

"Dinner will be ready soon." With that said the android got up, and disappeared from his view.

How did Nines really know he was hallucinating? Maybe he was still dreaming and in some coma? Killing himself would wake him up, right? Was that how it worked?  
Maybe Nines was lying and there had been cockroaches, and he was just hiding them because he was embarrassed.

Dinner hadn't tasted. Not well or badly, because he hadn't eaten. He wasn't hungry, certainly not after the scare from before.  
He still wasn't, and he wasn't going to ever again. The pain killers helped take the edge off everything.  
They probably helped him to sleep as well. At least he felt tired.

But he wasn't going to sleep. The time of giving his body this type of privilege was over.  
He instead had chosen to keep sitting in the wheelchair, by the window in the living room. A perfect view of the outside world that he had come to hate. He couldn't imagine himself ever stepping out there again. He wasn't agoraphobic though. What was the use of going outside if there was nothing waiting for him there?

The street lamps shone yellow light onto the concrete of the street and the side walk, illuminated a few cars and people that passed.  
The sky was pitch-black, no moon to be seen with all the clouds. Not even the smallest star.

He didn't want to be here anymore.  
A fleeting thought crossing his mind, with the power to make him hang his head low in defeat. Because he couldn't do anything about it.

"Would you like to join me? I'm sure the movie will interest you," Nines spoke gently, as if the volume of his voice could break the rest of Gavin's body. If only it could.  
"I want a cigarette." That was a lie. He wanted more than just one. And he wanted a coffee, too. The cheapest there was, bitter tasting and nearly foul on his tongue when the flavour was mixed with the one of nicotine and baccy.

Nines didn't reply to that, and it also didn't sound like he was getting up to help him roll one. Asshole, probably taking joy in his struggling and craving of a good nicotine fix. He had been addicted to the shit before, and only because he hadn't had one in a week or two or whatever time passed by now, he will not have gotten over it.

It was late. Last time Gavin had looked at a clock hanging on the kitchen wall, it had been nearly 7 PM. Then he had taken a while to just sit there and stare at his food. Then Nines spent some time trying to coax him into eating.  
It felt like he had been sitting here at the window for hours.  
And as if Nines could read his thoughts, he walked over and pushed his wheelchair away from the window and towards a room at the end of a hallway.

The door was opened and Gavin could see that the room was probably for guests. Bed, empty table, more plants.  
When the android was about to push him through the doorway, he clung to the edge of it with his left hand, trying his best to not let go. But Nines just took his wrist and forced him to let go - if only he could get this type of encouragement the next time he was at a high place.  
Nines went to lift him out of the chair, but he didn't let go, tried to make himself as heavy as possible, but really: The guy was the strongest android-model. Gavin could try as he might, but whatever he did, he wasn't going to achieve anything.

Didn't that sound awfully familiar?

He was sat down on the mattress, and a familiar bag came into view. Had Nines been in his apartment? Thinking about it, he hadn't seen his keys around anywhere.  
The man unpacked the clothes contained inside as if they were his own. Gavin wasn't embarrassed about having the other look through his wardrobe; a warning would have been nice though.

"Do you always look through people's belongings and break into their home?" His voice was steady, not giving away how he felt about this. Because there wasn't any way he felt about this.  
And his partner answered truthfully, too. As if Gavin really cared. "I didn't break into your home. I told you I would bring you some things so you can stay here. The bare necessities - except for a razor." Gavin just _wondered_ why not a razor.

He hadn't shaved in some time, and the facial hair was getting annoying. He would appreciate to get rid of it at the next opportunity. It always itched his face. How did Hank manage to have a near full-grown beard?

"I don't remember you telling me about that."  
"That was probably because you were on pain medication."  
Could be. He had slept much, and he wouldn't be surprised if at one point he had his eyes opened during a nap or two.

"I didn't know if you had any sleep attire, so I brought you a pair of sweatpants and a shirt. If you'd like we can go to your apartment again sometime, so you can get some things I have forgotten or overlooked."  
Nines placed the clothes on the mattress, and Gavin just stared at them. He was already wearing loose pants due to the cast on his leg, and same went with his shirt. Why bother changing into these clothes? It would be a waste of energy, and Gavin didn't have much of that resource anymore.

He doubted he would ever get it back again.

For his entire life, he had struggled and fought and used all his reserves to stay alive, to keep his mind at least in the slightest working order. Now they were empty.

The other stepped before him, and already was reaching for the hem of his shirt to take it off, but Gavin reacted quickly enough and held his wrist as tightly as he could.  
He didn't look up. He didn't need to see the disappointment or annoyance in his face. Nines probably would be sick of his shit soon enough and finally give up.

"Alright, you don't have to change your clothes tonight," that caught Gavin a little off-guard, "I suppose you can change them tomorrow after a good shower."  
A shower? How was he supposed to do that with his constrictions? Even going to the fucking toilet would be hard. And he would not request his partner's help there, because... just no. It wasn't even embarrassing. It was a goddamn intrusion of his privacy. He didn't know how androids felt about this, but humans usually went to the bathroom _alone_.

Gavin would leave that problem to figure itself out in the morning. For now he just wanted to be alone.  
Nines walked out of the room, and Gavin already felt hope that he would finally have some peace, but he only came back with this stupid glass of water he still hadn't taken a sip from, and some pills.  
"You should brush your teeth."  
He hadn't even eaten anything. What use would that be?

He wouldn't need his teeth anyway. What use were they going to be?

"Gavin, I understand you may not feel so good right now," Gavin tensed at the words. He felt how a small spark of something ignited in him. He shoved the feeling away. "But I will not watch you destroy yourself - physically or mentally."  
What did he really know of this?! He had no idea what he was going or not going through, probably couldn't even understand him if he told him about the most menial things that felt just huge to the ex-detective.

He had basically lost his job already, didn't earn any fucking money so his apartment would be gone soon enough as well. Let alone that the money he still had, he wanted to invest in only one thing. And not his rent.

Gavin held out his hand to accept the meds. But before the man actually handed them to him, he halted.  
"It is advised you eat something before taking them. I don't want you to be in pain, Gavin, but.. I don't want you to feel ill, either."  
Oh, and why not? What was really worse? Him puking, or him staying up all night, because the slightest movement of his body felt like someone was driving over him with a truck?  
Yeah, sure. Puking is soo much worse.

Now there was really no reason to be awake anymore. He was sick of sleeping, but more irritated about being conscious.  
He crawled up to the headboard of the bed as best as he could using only two limbs. Any offered help was declined. He found himself laying over the covers, and staring up at the ceiling.  
Nines offered him to use the blanket for warmth. He ignored him. Soon enough the lights were finally turned off, but the door was kept open the slightest bit. Only a sliver of light shone in through the gap, but even that was turned off soon enough.

Gavin hated it here.

The quiet. The questions. The concern.

It was all so unfamiliar, and as equally unwelcome.

He rolled onto his left side and onto his back for hours, trying to find some comfortable position, one that didn't make him tense his muscles. But sleep just wouldn't come. Not even the knowledge of Nines finally having gone to his own room - judging by the sounds of clothes being discarded and put on, as well as the light creaking of a bed and the rustling of covers - was calming enough. Knowing that now was his time to shine.  
He probably wouldn't have much privacy for a while, so he might as well use the time productively.

He dragged himself closer to the edge of the bed and pulled out the tobacco, papes and filters just like earlier. He quietly turned on the lamp on the nightstand and got to work on practicing how to roll his beloved ciggies, even with the hinderance of his trashed shoulder and arm.


	3. Hamatacanthus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't smoke.

It had been easier planned than done.  
He had had all the time in the world, and all he needed; along with his lighter. What he was missing was the skill.

But since he was careful and slow, not willing to waste any of the papes by accidentally ripping them, he managed to roll one. Then two. Three. Four. He rolled as many as he could with all he had left. The tobacco, having been opened for more than weeks now, was dry, and the taste would not be as satisfying as when it had been fresh, let alone it made rolling them all the harder. The light strings and pieces were basically crumbling to dust by now, and the lightest movement of his broken arm could send the stuff down to the mattress, leaving him to regather them.  
The last filter he had was pressed tightly between his lips. Since they were dry, he needed to make sure it would stay there, whereas before the bit of moisture would have held it in place easily.

Gavin knew that refusing to drink or eat for too long would probably urge Nines to send him back to the hospital, where they might as well were going to force-feed him with a tube. Or just stick an IV in him and wait until he "came to his senses" and wouldn't refuse anymore.

Wouldn't be his problem if he starved. No one really was going to care for too long. Life went on. Life would go on like it always had, only without him.

Gavin placed the filter in the paper with shaking fingers. They hurt. But soon enough he licked along the sliver of glue and rolled his last pre-prepared cigarette. He had 19 in total to smoke before he would need to get out for more.  
But there wouldn't be any holding back. If cigarettes were feared for one thing, then it was death. Cancer, lung infections. Gavin knew these illnesses were serious, but he couldn't bring himself to care when he thought of himself catching any of this stuff.

The door to the room he was staying in was still opened slightly, meaning he now had to quietly jump into his wheelchair and close it, before the android would catch wind and take the only joy in his life away, too.

And Gavin did just that. Dragging himself to the chair, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head spinning like he had been sitting on a hyper-sped up carousel. He took in a few deep breaths, that felt like they never reached his empty lungs, before standing on his good leg and holding onto the armrest of the chair tightly, while lowering himself onto it as slowly as possible. He was twitching and shaking from the exertion it brought his body, his ribs hurting from the use of his muscles there. But he kept quiet.

The pain was welcome.

The familiarity of it. The disturbance of peace.

Gavin reached the door somehow by pushing himself forward with his leg. He didn't want to touch the wheels, since they were probably dirty from the street they had rolled over.  
Just thinking of all the germs he would have on his hands made him shiver.  
He closed the door, pushing the handle down so not even the click of the lock falling into place could be heard - who knew what noises could wake the other? - and wheeled over to the window once having grabbed the cigs and placing them on his lap.

Nines might be able to smell the smoke in the morning, but he didn't put too much thought to that. Let him smell it. Let him see that he was beyond help.  
Opening the window was a bit more difficult. Unlike the one at his apartment, where one could open it sideways, this one needed to be lifted upwards, creating much more noise. He unlocked it and put his fingers under the edge, using all the strength he had, and opened it.  
Nines kept the hinges oiled, apparently, because it slid open easily.

He took the lighter and flicked it on a couple times before a flame appeared and stayed. It lit up the room and chased away the darkness surrounding him.  
Gavin watched the flicker of light for a bit, just enjoying the display of physics before him. A small gust of wind nearly blew out the fire, so he took one of the cigarettes and lit it.

The first inhale was desperate, and it took effect near instantly. He felt more lightheaded than before, nearly thought that he might start flying to the ceiling soon.  
The man leaned back in the chair, it giving just the lightest creak.  
It was hypnotising to watch the grey cloud form and dissolve before him. The stench of cold fume permeated his nose; Nines would definitely smell it in the morning. Or pick it up with his sensors or whatever. Gavin had no idea what they were called, or if androids even had that ability.

The ash was dropped outside unceremoniously, but he collected the butts of the cigs on the windowsill. Ash would be washed away with the next rain, but not the rest.

One, two, three.

His lungs burned, and he was shivering from the cold. Still, he did not take a blanket to cover himself, or close the window.  
This was what he wanted. The familiarity of always being too cold, his hands hurting from the low temperature, and shaking with the rush of nicotine still being processed by his body.

But he began to feel sick after the fifth. It started as a heavy feeling in his gut, before moving up his esophagus, and he leaned forward out of reflex, despite knowing that nothing would be expelled from his stomach. There was nothing in there, except for the gaping hole that on some days threatened to eat him from the inside.  
Like a growth it would suck all the energy from him and leave him to struggle to get out of bed. Every move seeming just too complicated to be done with the few braincells he possessed.

He waited for the cigarette to go out on its own before placing it down on the windowsill along with the others, and closing the window.

He grabbed all the ends and made sure no pieces of ash were left on the wood, and wheeled over to his bag, leaving them in a small compartment inside to throw away some other time.  
Not that he cared if Nines found them. It was his life, and he could decide what he was going to do with it.  
But he hid it anyways.

Now that he had gotten a proper nicotine fix, he could lay back down. He was still shivering all over, and it wasn't the lack of warmth around him.  
He carelessly threw the blanket over himself, and that was all the motivation he had for the night.

* * *

Apparently he had fallen asleep. The shift from darkness to light was too abrupt. Too quick for him to process, and it left him overwhelmed to just be awake. Like everyone else at a time like this.

Gavin at least thought it was already time to be doing something. But not him.  
With his fucked up leg and arm. He couldn't even go to the fucking toilet without mild assistance - and if that wasn't fucking embarrassing. But he supposed he didn't deserve any respect or privacy.

"Good morning, Gavin," he was greeted. The voice held a certain amount of cheeriness that he couldn't handle. Not without a coffee and a cigarette.  
So instead of looking at the person talking to him, he rolled his head to the other side, away from the current pain in his ass. Figuratively speaking.  
He shouldn't blame Nines for helping him. More so he should blame society and the human race for forcing people to stay alive when they didn't want to anymore.

"How did you sleep?"  
"Good."  
No response to that. The android could probably tell that he was lying, or at least not being honest.

Here was the thing: Asking Gavin how he slept, how he was feeling or any questions like that would not elicit a good response. Because most of the time, he did not know how he was feeling, did not understand how one could sleep well or badly - if one was asleep, they weren't really awake to judge it, were they?

"Need to piss."  
At least that statement got the other to finally move from his spot and help him to sit on the wheelchair. He would have done it himself, but he didn't feel like his left leg had the strength for that any longer. Simply leaving the blanket already set him on edge, and he shivered in a poor attempt to stay warm.  
But Nines, instead of helping him onto his chair, carried him further. Out the bedroom and into the bathroom.  
"What the hell are you doing?"  
"You wanted to relieve your bladder, no?" How swollen; "relieve" one's bladder. The only relief he wanted was the ultimate end.  
"Whatever, jus'... set me down an' leave." How great a drink would be right now. Or two. And more.

Anything to ignore the fact that he had gotten himself into a situation where he was so dependent. When he didn't even want the help.

Nines left, closing the door behind himself to leave Gavin standing in front of the barrier.  
He turned the lock, wanted to anyway. But this door wasn't lockable with some mechanism, but a simple key. And the key was not in the slot.  
Had his ex-partner for real removed the key to prevent him from locking himself in? That was disgusting. Interesting, but disgusting.

Gavin refused to take a bath or a shower. Nines had "requested for his agreement" as it would "make his job of taking care of him easier". Well, he could go fuck himself for all he cared. He wasn't going to let Nines see him exposed all the while washing him. Was there a worse way to make him feel more useless?

That was how he got to sitting back in the chair, in front of the same window as the day before.  
Nines was making lunch for him. Gavin hadn't commented on the futility of that action. Let him waste his own money on someone like him.  
He would rather smoke, which he was going to do. Once he reached the cigs in the guest room. The ends were in his bag, the unused ones in his jacket pocket. The lighter was there, too, somewhere.

It was cumbersome to get there. He felt the lack of energy pull him down, making him slouch even while sitting, and pushing himself along with the help of his foot was already annoying.  
Next time he jumped, he would make sure it was from a higher place.

Nines hadn't followed him to see what he was going to do for some reason, but he didn't complain - it was exactly what he wanted. The android did as he wanted for fucking once!

He opened the window and lit himself his first cigarette since.. a few hours. The lightheaded feeling returned, and he closed his eyes to enjoy the moment he still had, before someone would disturb him once more.

Nines did not understand.  
Gavin and him had been partners for a while. And even if most of the time he was rather private about things, barely talking unless to give him any necessary information to a case, he had at least spoken more than now. There had been a connection between them. He had titled it friendship, they had been a great team after all.

So he did not understand. No, he did not understand why Gavin had done this to himself, let alone not come to him for help. He was still refusing all the help he offered. If they were friends, wouldn't he accept it?  
A possibility, of course, was that Gavin did not want to be helped, and thus him being a friend or not did not change anything about the mental state he was in.  
A thought highly distressing.

Humans and androids both were social beings, thriving and growing with every connection made, and with experiences shared. It was a great way to learn new things, an opportunity to better oneself.

But Gavin didn't seem to want any of it. Several days before that night, when Nines had found him, he appeared to have isolated himself even more than usual. And that isolation could have had disastrous influence on a person - depending on the individual of course.  
Tina sometimes also felt down, but she always called him when she felt that way and did not want to talk to any of her family members about it. And he would be there for her - watching a movie or just the two of them putting on face masks or nail polish. Not that beauty products would be of much use to an android, as they didn't have absorbent skin, but it was the atmosphere that counted.

If Gavin didn't want to accept help, then Nines would only futilely offer it. But that didn't mean he would stop. Far from that assumption, really.

He had already done a bit of research, and filed out a plan to keep Gavin healthy in the near future and supervised when he had to go to work.

  * let Gavin reach a more stable mindset
  * talk to him
  * introduce him to hobbies



His reasoning for proceeding this way: Gavin needs to first process and deal with what had happened. A person who had been saved from a situation such as that was shaken up, even if they did not notice it. Thus taking care of him by making sure he had food, water and a shelter was important. Seeing as he still had a high lack of interest towards anything given to him, as well as a disregard for a conversation that was small talk at best, he left him to heal his physical wounds first.

Talking was still a step far ahead, he could tell. Having Gavin open up to him was a challenge for them both. Nines would need to handle the information given to him. Of course, if Gavin would rather talk with a therapist, then that was just as acceptable. More so. Talking about his thoughts, and maybe having a behavioural therapist would help him figure things out more easily and restructure his brain to not think about these dark thoughts he must be having.

Lastly, introducing him to new hobbies. Painting, reading, taking walks - all of that would serve as an outlet for his emotion which he might be bottling up inside. Nines did not know yet what exactly Gavin was thinking about, and how it had come to him nearly taking his own life. But whatever it was, surely some interests would aid him in getting better.  
When he had been over at Gavin's apartment, he had seen just a few books and a console in his bedroom. He did not own much.

Despite how factually and rationally Nines thought about all this, he was more affected about all this than he let on.  
Having found Gavin just... laying there that night. With blood splatters around his head, having heard the sickening crunch of bones breaking.  
It still made his thirium pump feel heavy in his chest, how his eyes were just closed and he was so pale.

He had decided to make something more easy on the stomach for Gavin: A simple sandwich with a slice of cheese on it, and on another ham.  
Nines didn't know what Gavin liked to eat, but judging with his current mindset, he did not care too much. As long as he wasn't allergic to anything, then all was good. He did have a peanut allergy, so Nines hadn't bought anything containing the slightest bit of a part of a peanut.

"Gavin?" he knocked on the door and let himself in, not expecting to hear any sort of answer. And he didn't.  
The man was sitting in front of the window, smoking to Nines' great displeasure. "Here, I made you something light."  
He placed the plate on the windowsill, seeing and counting the remains of the cigarette he had placed there. This was his second.  
Gavin still refused to respond, or even react.

So the android pulled the thing out from between his fingers, and balled his fist around it, successfully destroying it.  
"I wanted to smoke that," was all he said, his gaze still fixed to the window. The outside world. Did he want to go out there? Or was it purely out of convenience for the smoke to escape the room? If so, then even that was rather considerate of him.

That was a trait Nines quite enjoyed about Gavin. He may appear a little rough around the edges, but he always found time to follow up with Tina's invitations to parties, like her birthday. Nines had honestly been a little fearful to invite his partner to his birthday yet. But he would do so this year.

Nines huffed in defeat and sat down on the bed, resting his head on his hands.  
"Gavin, could you, please, at least tell me _why_ you refuse to eat?" he looked up when he heard the lightest movement in the chair. Unlike he had hoped, Gavin had not turned around to face him, but just sat up a little more. At least he was giving his back a break from the constant onslaught of bad posture.  
"I am not hungry."

Now that was just insulting. Did he expect him to believe that? With the way he looked? How much weight he had lost?!  
"You cannot be serious." Nines was desperate. If Gavin didn't eat or drink, he would die of thirst or lack of nutrients. "Gavin, I will bring you back to the hospital so they can give you what you need. You know that, right? I won't let you starve yourself to death! I don't want you to die!" His voice had gotten a bit louder. He hadn't intended it to, but how could he keep his composure?  
"But what about my _genuine_ needs?" Gavin asked out of the blue, and left the android struggling to answer the question. What other needs did he have? He refused to see other people himself, refused to keep healthy and thus smoked, and ruined his lungs in the process.  
"I don't want to live anymore, Nines. Wasn't me jumping out of my window enough proof of that?"

It was still painful to hear him say these things. It left something empty and dark residing in his chest.  
"I don't believe that," he whispered, then stood up abruptly and stepped closer, "I don't believe that. No human or android really wants to die! It is not how we work. There's just these.. phases in which we feel worse and-"  
Gavin's muscles stiffened at what he was saying, and soon enough the calm mask he had put on crumbled. The frown quickly turned into a scowl, and he interjected, voice laced with something aggressive: "Do **not** explain these things to me! I am _perfectly_ aware that the way I think is not normal. Wouldn't that be obvious reason enough to let me have my wish? Me, a defective human, who shouldn't reproduce in the first place? Who won't be remembered in the next 20 or more years, hell maybe even 10?!"

"No."

Gavin leaned away, shocked: " _No_?!" He gripped the armrest of the chair tighter.  
"Yes; 'no'. There is something going on in your life that you need to talk about. And if you ever want to open up about it, then I will be there for you to do so."

Gavin turned away again, no response or comment.  
Nines left the bedroom again and walked back to the living room to give Gavin a little more space, and the opportunity to eat what he had prepared for him. He would have to return to work again tomorrow. But paperwork was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. The worry for his partner was more of a concern than organising files. It was not a good thought process to have, but considering that files could still be sorted after days, but Gavin could only take his life once, it was more of an advantage to make sure that the man was going to be fine.

Which was why he had already talked with Connor and Tina about a schedule that should allow them to use their days off so someone could always stay here and make sure Gavin was okay. It had been a bit of a hassle, but after talking to Fowler and explaining to him how his advanced processors could pick up on a better chance of recovery if Gavin was around those he knew - and not a secluded room in a hospital shared with a stranger - the captain had helped them to place their individual days off in a way to allow the daily supervision.

Nines didn't like lying to his own boss, but he was too worried about Gavin's health to not claim that his processors had done the work. It sounded more factual than his own thought process, which was affected by emotional input.  
Gavin _might_ recover better and faster if his friends were there to help him through this tough time - which was a theory of his own. The man didn't appear to kin strangers much, and putting him in an environment where there were only these kinds of people would most likely make him feel uncomfortable and make him clam up, as well as make him feel unwanted or too much of a bother. These thoughts were not only possible, but likely.

Gavin hated this. How Nines just decided for him that he would care for him. He still had a say in this stuff! It was still his life. They could do with his body what they wanted once he was dead.

The food on the windowsill was smiling at him, telling him to eat it and choke.  
Gavin was hallucinating. At least he thought so. Had food always been talking to him before he got the head trauma?  
No matter what way it was, Gavin was not going to care too much for it. Talking food was barely the worst his own brain could throw at him.

_"Gavin, I will bring you back to the hospital so they can give you what you need. You know that, right? I won't let you starve yourself to death!"_

He did not want to go back to the hospital. Because there they would take even more control of his life than Nines did already. But how could he.. eat that thing on the plate there?  
The bread looked so dry, the ham was still bloody. What was with the chees- Oh my god. That's so disgusting!  
Gavin held a hand before his mouth out of reflex. How could Nines want him to eat that? Did he want to poison him? Scare him? These maggots walking along the plate, over the cheese, and out of a sandwich were they appeared to be spawning in, were too much for Gavin to handle. He wanted to dump the spoiled food out the window, but he was too scared to touch it. He backed off, hearing the whispers getting a little quieter. It hadn't been the sandwich that had been talking, but these larvae. Whispering in hissing voices: _"Die, die die!" "Don't trust him!" "You're sick!"_

Gavin pushed away further from the window until the voices couldn't be heard anymore, and retreated to the living room.


	4. Spinosa

Today had been a real cut in his day. The one who was responsible for that cut was Nines.

Gavin had been actually asleep when the guy crept into the guest room to wake him at some early hour; he wasn't sure what time it was. He had been too tired since he had fallen asleep around 3 AM. He had still been sleep drunken as he had been talked to, and picked up to be carried somewhere where light offended his senses. He could have puked from being so hastily woken like this - and wouldn't have minded vomiting on Nines, either. All to get the android off his back.

Alas, he hadn't actually puked, and just kept swimming in that half-conscious state, hearing the words of the other while unable to understand them, until he felt the cold porcelain of the tub touch his legs. That got him awake real quick.

And he found himself sitting just in his boxers in the tub, casted arm and leg wrapped in plastic bags. "What? Nines, what are you doing?"  
"Getting you ready for a much-needed shower. Tina will come over today while I am at work, and I'm sure you wouldn't like her to do this, do you?"  
Gavin didn't know what the fuck to say. How could a person be woken up in a more uncomfortable way? Forced in a shower at some ungodly hour. He personally had always been an evening-showerer. He had time at the end of the day - at least some of the time -, and giving up his morning-smoke time was too bad to be doing something like this.

"You can shower alone, don't worry," the other assured him, and Gavin huffed: "Wow, thanks for that. Go ahead and take off my boxers as well, will you?"  
Nines' LED turned yellow for just the slightest second, before going back to blue. "Please, Gavin. Take a shower. I'll prepare some breakfast for you in the meantime."  
Nines already stood up from the kneeling position he had been in, and fuck did he look tall. Like he was stories high.  
"Wait," he said, his voice still hoarse from sleep and misuse. He felt light-headed, just like.. Nines turned back around to face him, and he just stood there, waiting patiently for him to say what he wanted. "Did you grab my razor?"  
The LED turned yellow again, the colour staying for a moment longer this time.  
"I'm not planning anything, Nines. I just want to shave. This beard is annoying." As if his body wanted to prove what he had said, his lower face started to itch a little, and he mindlessly scratched at the coarse hairs.  
"I have not. But I'll bring it today after work, promise."  
"... Thanks."

With that the man left and Gavin just kept staring at the door for a little while longer, until he started shivering again from the cold.  
He took off his boxers and turned on the warm water.  
His hair was extremely greasy. And considering he had body hair, well, everywhere, he also was greasy everywhere. The human body could be so disgusting. He let it get to this point, but still; were all the germs that necessary?

Nines had laid out clean clothes for him on the closed lid of the toilet; fresh underwear, a hoodie, and loose pants and some fuzzy socks he knew did not belong to him. But they were soft, and he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to warm his feet - one foot. The other still had the cast. They were freezing cold.

He would have been willing to just keep sitting on the toilet, doing nothing except for staring at the wall in front of him, but Nines had different plans for him.  
The door to the bathroom was opened and the wheelchair brought in for him to sit down in it. He did, if only to keep the other from groaning for more compliance. ~~_But Nines hadn't complained yet. He had been patient with him._~~

The chair was rolled into the kitchen just like the other day. There was the empty space between other chairs, and he was left there.  
A bowl of oatmeal appeared in front of him, and he thought he was actually going to puke this time. Gavin was a picky eater. Hadn't been in his childhood. But sometimes during his thirties he just up and lost interest in most foods. Red meat was too tough, asparagus had this weird texture that he couldn't handle to feel in his mouth. And oatmeal was just plain disgusting and heavy in his stomach.

But Nines looked at him expectantly. The other looked away when he caught his gaze, but he had seen the look thrown his way.  
Gavin looked back at the bowl, and goddamn it smelled so bad. Like.. he didn't remember oatmeal to have ever smelled like that.

But despite that worry, he picked up the spoon. It shook in his hand, and he was afraid he was accidentally going to let go of it. He couldn't help just continuing to stare at his shaking hand. The fingertips were pale, and his nails were a light blue tinge.  
Gavin recoiled out of reflex as soon as he felt something being placed over his shoulders, only to find himself trapped in his own body.

"Hey, don't worry. It's just a blanket," Nines reassured him. Gavin looked up for a moment. He couldn't keep eye contact, and pulled the blanket further over himself in an attempt to hide his being from the scanning gaze of his partner.  
"Thanks," he mumbled after a few seconds and grabbed the spoon again.

Nines sat across from him, and it didn't make him feel any more comfortable.

"I wanted to talk with you about something. And I wouldn't start that conversation already if it didn't run on time."  
Gavin looked up, using the distraction to maybe get something down from his breakfast after all. Because eating with no distractions whatsoever was near impossible for him. He didn't know why, but even back in his apartment the TV had to be on, or some video on YouTube needed to be playing. He was like a little child, willing to eat what was fed to them only when they took a moment to calm down from all the "exciting" things around them.

Gavin waited for Nines to continue talking, eyes fixed on a spot on the wall next to the man.  
He felt his stomach cramping at the thought of actually getting something in there after all this time. So it wasn't so complicated to lift the spoon and to start eating.  
He hated oatmeal.

"Since you will be staying with me for a while, I thought maybe you would like to just move here." Ah, yes. Moving in with his colleague and part-time nurse. His favourite topic at fucking 6 in the morning. It was 6 AM, right? Smelled like that. "I know that is a big step, and like I stated, I would love to have that conversation another time. But considering that you are currently not.. receiving a salary as before, it would save you many costs to live here and not have to pay rent anymore. You would also have all your belongings around you - also your gaming console."  
Gavin looked up at Nines at that. The guy was right. Now that he was basically jobless, he would have time to play through the entirety of Fallout 4 in a smooth run, travel to Nuka-World or Far Harbor. DLCs he had gotten for himself for a while now, but hadn't played through them yet. He was totally going for a raider-run this time.

"Sure," he croaked out.  
Nines offered him a smile. And god, despite Nines' smile not being such a rarity anymore, it was still something to see.

Gavin used to love making people laugh. Because it meant he was makings someone happy with his stupid jokes. This time he hadn't told a joke, though.

He was just inserting the spoon back into his mouth, but he felt like spitting that one back out. He gagged from the taste in his mouth on reflex, but managed to nearly choke on the bite of mush instead. Fucking body functions!  
The spoon dropped to the tabletop and he pushed himself away from the furniture to lean over.  
He was handed a paper towel quickly and he heaved whatever he had just nearly swallowed back out.  
It tasted like blood. There was blood in his mouth. There was blood on the paper towel.  
Gavin suppressed an oncoming gag.  
He knew looking up into the bowl would surely show him what was reality. But there wasn't the brown oat anywhere to be found. It was just red.. liquid.

"Gavin, what is it? Are you alright?" The android knelt down next to him.  
He must be looking pale. God, his skin felt clammy. He was shivering.  
"T-There's blood. Don't you see it?" He continued to spit into the paper towel, a vain hope to get rid of the taste and smell.  
Nines rested his hand on his shoulder. Gavin was too tired to move away from the touch. Let alone that he hoped for the warmth that came with it.

"Gavin, close your eyes for me, please," he ordered. Gavin complied. He didn't know what that would do or how that could help, but he did so anyway.  
He felt a glass being placed in his hand, and his hand was aided to drink it. He did. It tasted like water.  
"Don't open your eyes yet." Gavin refrained from doing so.  
They waited a few minutes.  
"Good. Now tell me, how do you feel?"  
"I feel... disgusted."  
"Is the taste still there?"  
He nodded.  
"Remember, it is not real. You don't have to feel that way."  
"Hallucination or not, it feels so _real_."  
"That may be true, but in the end it is just your senses deceiving you. Do you trust me when I say I have not served you blood just now?"

Gavin actually had to think about that for a second. His senses deceiving him? Wouldn't be the first time. After all, all that he saw, tasted, smelled or felt was subjective.  
".. I don't know. What if I am just hallucinating you? What if I am already dead, but stuck in some sort of limbo? Can _I_ trust _you_ , not to be a hallucination?"  
He was met with silence, so he opened his eyes to look, see if Nines was still there. And he was. He was still here.

"I guess I cannot prove it when you ask me like that. But even if I were to be a hallucination, doesn't me caring about you show something? How you crave someone to help you in a time when you feel lost?"  
Gavin wanted to empty the glass over Nines' head.

"Alright, you're real. A _real_ smartass."  
"I do what I can."

Needless to say Gavin did not eat breakfast. That experience earlier had been more than enough for him.  
Soon after he had been forced to brush his teeth, Tina had arrived. And Nines left to go to work. He felt like a child that needed constant supervision. But neither was true. He was an adult, responsible of his own actions. So why not be left alone to his own devices? They all knew what he had done. On purpose, too.

"Gavin, wanna get your present now?" Tina suddenly spoke up as the two of them were living room. She was sitting on the couch, watching TV, Gavin at the window.  
He turned to look at her, but didn't respond. He wondered what she meant. A present? For what?  
"You're 38 now, remember?" she was smiling at him. He wanted to smile back, but he couldn't bring himself to. It felt like too much effort.  
He shrugged and looked back out the window. He wasn't a good person, he didn't deserve presents. Not even for his birthday.

"C'mon, aren't you curious? I promise you'll like it!"  
Gavin rested his hand on the wheel of the chair, as laborious as that task turned out to be for his dwindling muscles, and rolled back a little in an attempt to turn to her. He didn't care what she had gotten him, but the way she was looking at him - so hopeful and desperate that he would move- made him want to not disappoint her.

Her smile widened and she pulled out a small box from her bag she had brought. The box looked nice. It was black with wide, red strings around it to form a ribbon on top.  
What had she gotten a dog like him?

The box was given to him and he placed it on his lap, trying to open it with his one hand. But the strings wouldn't budge, but rather lift whatever light object was inside. Tina waited patiently, probably guessing that he didn't want help. At least not until he asked for it. So he held the box out to her again, and she opened it for him.  
He was now handed the box with the ribbon gone, and inside were two necklaces.  
"Best friend necklaces? Aren't we a little too old for stuff like this?"  
"What, you don't like it?" she answered playfully. Gavin didn't know what to say. He did like it. He just was surprised, that someone would give him something like this. Someone he had only regarded as a friend for so long. He had never been given best-friend-anything's before.

"Thank you, Tina."  
One of the necklaces read "Best", the other "Friend". The first one had handcuffs on it, the other a gun. He chose the latter, so he handed Tina the one with the handcuffs.  
"I knew you'd pick that one!" She smiled widely. She knew him well, seemingly. It was a nice gift. Small, but probably a bit expensive.  
"Then why hand me both? Is someone getting uncertain?"  
Tina gasped: "Me? Never!"  
He put the necklace on.

Tina and him hung out at the couch and watched TV after that. Gavin was too tired to do anything else, and talking wasn't really on his agenda. Talking could mean small talk, and he hated that. And small talk, once it got boring, would turn to something more serious. And he wanted that even less.

But after two hours of mindless television, he started to retreat back into his own head.  
He wanted to be alone, there was just too much going on around him all the time; first the nurses at the hospital bugging him, then Nines literally watching over all his steps.. well not steps. And now Tina. He understood why they did so, but Gavin couldn't help wanting some more privacy.  
That train already left the station though. They would all watch him for a while longer, if not for the rest of his life, because apparently he was a person one could care about.

But not only the constant supervision was getting on his nerves. It was the constant sitting and doing nothing. Yet he couldn't do anything about it - he was trapped to the wheelchair, slowly starving himself. He didn't understand how his body could possibly still get agitated by doing nothing but sitting.

His healthy leg was bouncing up and down, the fingers on his non-broken hand tapping on the armrest of the wheelchair. He was sure Tina would eventually get annoyed by the little sounds that created.

But no, after another 30 minutes or so, she still didn't say anything, and Gavin started snapping his fingers instead. He didn't want to sit here anymore.

"Do you wanna go grab some takeout?" she suddenly asked. The TV was turned off and Gavin was thankful for that.  
He didn't know about going outside though. It was cold, and dirty. And people were outside as well. But a warm, unhealthy meal did not sound bad at all.

"Sure, let's go."

That was how he found himself outside, wrapped in his warmest jacket Nines had brought for him. It wasn't the warmest, and thanks to having been inside for so long, the cold came nearly as a shock. It was just fucking October - sure, the end of it - but still.  
Tina had also taken one of the blankets and placed it over his lap.  
He was still freezing, but he tried not to let it show how much he was shivering.

His friend pushed the wheelchair for him, which was the nicest thing she could do right now for him, because otherwise his fingers might fall off from the temperatures outside. Instead, he had the buried in the pockets of his jacket.

Gavin watched the passing cars, and the intrusive thoughts of throwing himself before one were penetrating the forefront of his mind. He didn't want to do it, but still he fantasised about the action, about the result.  
 ~~He wanted to do it, and he fantasised about what would happen with his mind afterwards.~~

He knew these thoughts weren't normal. Maybe everyone had them once in a while. But not everyone acted after them, because not every impulse was as strong as his.

"You look in like you're deep in thought, Gavin. Thinking about what to get? Where I go to grab some Chinese takeout, you can't do anything wrong. Their whole menu is the shit."  
"I'll trust you on that, even if I am picky," Gavin answered without much thought. He just wanted to stop his brain from doing anything right now. Stop all trains of thought, all the consciousness. Maybe he should take a nap. Have a smoke.

"Hey, Tina.. could we go to some kiosk or something? I need to get something."  
He didn't turn around to look at her, too little energy. And the slightest movement could let any of the warm air that had collected under his jacket escape.  
He wrapped his arms tighter around himself.

They had gone to a kiosk first, and Gavin had bought two packs of all the things he needed to make cigarettes, guessing that Nines wouldn't go with him to buy this stuff. Tina didn't look too pleased either, but as far as he knew she was also a smoker. Occasional-smoker, what he thought she had told him once. He didn't remember clearly. So maybe that was why she let him buy this. Didn't prevent him from doing what he wanted to do like Nines.

Then they had gone to grab some food, had waited inside the restaurant so Gavin wouldn't freeze to death, so he was sure that train had departed already.  
There were a few people inside, some even stared. And being tied to the wheelchair, Gavin felt extremely uncomfortable. He wanted to go back to Nines' house. Hide under the blanket. And smoke. He was craving a cigarette so much right now, he could start screaming!

But he had held his mouth while inside, and he was glad that finally their food was brought to them. Tina paid - he would pay her back - and they were back out in the cold. The warmth of the food seeped through to the blanket and ultimately his lap. Still, the rest of him couldn't stop shivering, while he was holding onto the trays with a desperate grip.

"You gave him _what_ to eat? Tina, he needs something lighter on his stomach, maybe less sodium and with actual vitamins! Not this.. this salt soup.. crap!"  
"Don't you _dare_ say anything about the meals there. They aren't healthy, sure. But unlike you I actually managed to make him eat something. He ate about three fourths, Nines. Have you even **seen** how thin he has gotten?!"  
He heard the two arguing in the other room. In the living room to be exact. He had taken to sitting by the window in the unlit bedroom again, smoking his third cigarette. It was late, which was why Nines was back home and ready to continue mother-henning him.  
It was almost funny to hear Nines fumbling for the right words to insult their coworker's favourite restaurant's meals.

Almost though, because Gavin didn't feel comfortable being talked about in the next room over. Let alone being talked about like he was just a little kid, who ate sweets when his parents were on some strict diet for him. He was an adult man; he could decide what he wanted to eat or not.  
The soup did sit heavily in his stomach, but he knew everything would. Everything did. Like the knowledge of being fucking useless tied to his chair like this.

He inhaled more of the bitter smoke, and he wanted to throw up. Cigarettes didn't even taste nice anymore. Maybe they never did. But now, even the joy of being able to smoke all day was not bringing any happiness. Not even a moment of peace.

Why was the food he ate so damn important to Nines anyway? He was acting like a helicopter-parent.

He ignored the rest of their conversation. Nothing good would come of it anyway.

He let the cigarette go out on its own when it reached the filter. A tickling sensation aggravated his throat and he coughed.

He needed another cigarette.


End file.
